The Great Adventure
by Ruse
Summary: Ardeth Bay follows a dream that takes him through dangers. But will his quest consume him?


**The Great Adventure**

Ardeth Bay makes a pilgrimage across the desert to claim an artifact so precious he would go to any, _any _lengths to get it.

* * *

It is the nature of man to be flawed. It is an inherent gift passed from a father to his children, a thing that has been the bane of civility since the beginning of time. Any variation of this defect can be found present in all that draw breath, and none may escape the certainty of it. All suffer it, from a beggar on the streets even unto the most high and wise. This is a tale of the flaw of avarice, and how it drove one man further than he ever dreamt he would go to gain that which his heart coveted.

Warm and calming shone Ra upon the edge of the sky, bringing life to a flawed planet on this the first day of his quest. Our desert hero stood within the sun's first rays alone, though he paid no mind to the grand beginning spilling over the dunes. Ardeth Bay knelt at the entrance to his tent, his hands set upon lacing his boot. His thoughts were far away from this place, however. He could feel it pulling him, drawing him towards a greater destiny. Legend had spoken of its coming, this thing so terrible in its power, from as far back as the Medjai people could remember. And now it was here, secreted away within the burning desert, bringing with it change for good or for ill.

His final departing task complete, Ardeth straightened. Only a handful of tents and the expanse of the desert stood between he and his goal. His heart was grave with thoughts of this journey. The potential for death was great, so much so he knew not whether he would even return. Yet who else would go? None here could claim the task as theirs, though many had displayed bravery to match his. None were permitted to join him, and none would offer. This was his birthright, as the son of the Chieftain of the Medjai. It was a perilous duty, but one he accepted with humility and honor.

Footfalls in the sand at his back caused Bay to turn hastily. It was no desert raider come to stop him, though, no weeping woman or any other salvation from this journey. It was but a small boy, with hair as black as midnight and eyes twice as dark. "Where are you going?" he asked boldly, his hands twisting the handle of what was likely his father's scimitar sheathed away in its scabbard. A glint of eagerness betrayed the boy's intention, which was to take up what no man save Ardeth would do. To follow on this dangerous journey.

Bay cocked his head to one side and watched the boy labor with the weight of his burden. "I am going to claim that which has come to us at last," he replied with an air of mystery.

The boy squinted in the growing light, peering up through a single eye. "Cryptic," he accused the warrior before him, then tried to heave the sword a little higher.

Ardeth took the weapon from the child and with one hand, turned him away. The warrior then knelt and began strapping it to the boy's back. "Nasim, where I am going is dangerous. I go because I must...yet, I am afraid I will not be able to complete my duty."

"You? Afraid?" Nasim said with a certain wonder in his voice. "But you're Ardeth."

Ardeth laughed and tested the tightness of the strap against the child's tunic. Finding it not to his liking, he began to loosen it. "Yes. My mind will be on our people while I am away. Who can I trust to keep watch in the mornings and in the afternoon?"

The boy tottered with Ardeth's pulling. "This is some kind of trick isn't it?" he asked tartly. "You're trying to keep me from going with you."

"Yes," replied the warrior shamelessly, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "How does that feel?"

"Fine." Nasim spoke in the sullen tones of a boy who knows he can not pry what he so desires out of strong hands. "I guess I could keep watch."

At his did Bay grin, though he already missed his home before he could even depart. "Good. Take that sword to your father." He turned swiftly away, fearing his resolve would falter if he postponed his quest any further. With the strength of ages of Medjai before him, he took the first step and with that found each new step easier. So intent was he that he missed the thud in the sand at his back.

"Ardeth?"

The warrior shook his head at the sound of the child's pleading voice. "I will say no more, Nasim. Now go." He could not turn back now. It was time.

Lying upon his back in the sand, felled by his father's sword, Nasim tilted his head back and watched Ardeth walk away for perhaps the last time, vowing within his heart that someday he would display such valor.

Some ways away, Ardeth came unto the corral where the Medjai warriors kept their prize steeds. With a single whistle, he shouted, "Hadi!" and without pause came a mount that was strong and true, with shining chestnut hair and long, untamed locks. Ardeth smiled and laid his hand upon the horse's nose, giving it a soft stroke. "Ah, my good friend. Are you ready for our adventure?"

Hadi gave an affirmative whinny.

And so Ardeth led Hadi from the confines of the corral, and mounted bareback as any true warrior did. With one final glance at his home, Bay set forth and did not turn back. Hadi was swift and the desert sang softly through the gentle winds. It was a sweet, beckoning melody all Medjai knew by heart. Ardeth felt his blood race as the journey began at long last. It was as if that for which he had been born was just upon the horizon, waiting only for his footsteps to catch it unawares. His heart pulsed with every step towards his destiny.

The noonday sun seemed to have robbed Hadi of some of his fervor by the time it reached its zenith, however. Ardeth inhaled deeply as the horse trotted obediently, despite its weariness. He reached out and laid his hand upon Hadi's ebon mane, imparting comfort and the promise of understanding to the creature. "I know you are tired," he said ruefully. "We stayed strong with the morning winds. Yet there is a great distance before us, my old companion. Grant to me a little more of your strength, hmm?" He gave the horse another pet.

Hadi snorted derisively, but nonetheless kept onward. There was a brief speed-up, which Ardeth mistook for a gallop of joy, but learned all too quickly that Hadi merely meant to knock him off his back. The Medjai slipped sideways, nearly granting the horse his wish, but caught himself before being unloaded onto the sand. "Nice try," he commented, giving Hadi another pat. 

Now it was perhaps a quarter of an hour before something met them along their path. Ardeth turned and his eyes feasted upon a beautiful oasis in the distance. Hadi shook his head and whinnied, turning towards it almost instinctively.

Now it must be said, the Medjai did attempt to command his faithful steed to keep going, but the horse had always had a mind of its own. Resigned after his fruitless urgings, Ardeth made a face and squinted to see if he could make it out better. "If this turns out to be a mirage, you're going to be sorry," he said sharply. Hadi saw no reason to dignify that with a response.

A mirage it was not. Ardeth had known this when he had said what he said, for he had been this way many times. However, since Hadi was not to be put off, they arrived at the oasis in no time at all. The horse went straight for the pool of water in the center, paying no heed to Ardeth's ire. Giving in, the Medjai dismounted to enjoy himself if he could do nothing else.

The great god Ra was not merciful on this so fateful of days. Ardeth let out an expansive breath and ripped his turban off, mopping his forehead with the loose cloth. Being a desert creature, the warrior was naturally resistant to the blasting rays of the sun, but he had to admit today was unlike other days. He was _hot_. Moist skinned, taut muscled, about-to-be-bare-chested hot. There was a soft breeze and he was missing most of it beneath his heavy raiment.

Now Ardeth Bay was nothing if not modest. Before disrobing his upper half, he made certain that there was truly no one out here in the deathly heat with him. Seeing not a soul, he stripped himself and knelt down beside his horse, dipping his hands into the cool, crystal liquid before him. It was soft and pleasant, perhaps the last bit of luxury he would have before he came to the end of his journey. Bringing the water to his lips, Ardeth drank deeply, blissfully unaware of the water trickling down his neck and over his tired muscles.

Not until he heard a soft sigh. Ardeth had closed his eyes in indulgence, but now they were wide and resting upon three feminine forms across the shimmering surface. Whispers of words he could not make out taunted his ears as they conversed in secret, three sets of eyes glued to him. And then suddenly they took flight, entering the water with alacrity and grace. He was stunned. So much so he could not speak as one woman began feeding Hadi some unknown substance from the pockets of her skirt.

A second woman bent into the water and dipped a bucket into its depths. This she took to the horse, pouring it liberally over his coat to cool and soothe the creature. Hadi peered at Ardeth out of one eye, bobbing his head up and down.

The third woman sang softly to herself as she began the work of adding a braid to Hadi's mane. None of these three females spoke a single word to Ardeth, nor in fact gave any indication that they realized he was there. He could hardly believe this. This was not a story he was going to share with the warriors back home, that was certain. Crossing his arms, he stalked through the small pool and sat down upon a large rock. A glance showed his robe being used to clean Hadi's hooves. The woman doing this gave him a reproachful glare, as if to say he should not have dared force this labor upon the steed.

Ardeth shook his head, murmuring with a certain confidence, "This is a dream. This is some sickening dream of that horse's. I am not real, nor is this place. I must have fallen off and hit my head. When I wake, Hadi will be standing over me waiting to go."

About three quarters of an hour later, the Medjai was finally ready to conceded that yes, this was indeed reality, no matter how terrible. He had not spoken, nor had these three shrill witches that were intent upon showering Hadi with attention usually reserved for gods. Oh, but Ardeth was getting ready to speak. Too long had he been kept from his mission. Then, just as he stood, it seemed the women were finished. Hurling his turban at him, they departed to the other side of the oasis, where they stood staring at him.

Ardeth trudged through the water and glared at Hadi, then scouted around for his missing clothes. Seeing neither hide nor hair of his robe, he looked at the women and noticed something black and long in one of their arms. "Could I please have my robe?" he barked, jerking his turban out of the water.

The answer the three gave was direct, to say the least. As they began throwing small stones, Ardeth decided enough was enough. He mounted Hadi none too gently, kicking him off in the right direction. "I hope you're pleased," he growled low. Hadi trotted merrily along.

Ardeth glanced back, watching as the women continued to stare. He was tempted to wave his sword, but thought to leave well enough alone. He had more important things to divert his attention. Unwrapping his turban, the proud warrior draped it along his shoulders and over his more sensitive spots to ward off the treacherous sun. He didn't look his best, and he could never tell another living soul of this encounter, but he had to admit the cool water against his skin was nice.

Mercifully, night did not tarry long. He was grateful when the sun began to sink, doubly so when he came upon the bottom of a cliff not too long away from dusk. It was here he would camp to rest himself before venturing out again. Ardeth leapt off the horse's back and rummaged through the pack he had strapped to Hadi's side. Most of the food, he noted, was gone. The women must have been very liberal in their feeding of his horse. The Medjai sighed and removed a piece of fruit, giving Hadi a glare as he took a bite.

By nightfall a campfire flickered in the dark. Ardeth stretched out on his bedroll, looking at the stars. "Soon, Hadi," he crooned. Now that he was relaxed, he could turn his thoughts on that which he was seeking. It made forgiveness easier to accomplish. "When we arrive in triumph, then we can rest. It will be well worth it, my friend. This I swear."

Hadi neighed softly, seemingly taken in by this peaceful mood that had settled over his master. Bay cradled his head into one arm and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of nothing all around. It was so still he could swear he heard the heartbeat of the world. That thought lulled him into a fast sleep. True, the day had gone strangely wrong, but this was a night to revel in. The sand was warm and comforting, and the promise of glory ahead the perfect bedtime story. Ardeth was dead to the world in no time.

Hours passed uneventfully. The stars moved in their graceful dance and Ardeth slept on. In truth, he had meant to rise at midnight to begin again, but such was his sleep that he did not rouse until the very first light began to crack the sky. This was the beginning of the warrior's second day.

Ardeth became aware slowly, shifting as his skin began to tickle somewhere near his navel. He reached a heavy hand up, but was too tired to force it all the way. The light was playing at his eyelids. He started to notice that it wasn't as black as it should be. Yawning, the Medjai opened his eyes and met the dusty blue skies he had not wanted to see first thing upon rising. He sat up.

The itching at his stomach became more insistent. When he peered down, he saw why. A scorpion was walking across his skin as if it had every liberty to do so. Eyes wide, Ardeth gasped and smacked the thing away, scooting back in the sand with a fleetness he had not known he possessed. The scorpion scuttled away forlornly. Shaking his head, his heart racing and his wrists icy with nerves, the warrior clamored up to his feet. He jerked his pack up, searching for something to quell the aching in his midsection. Breakfast would do him well.

Halfway through this task he noticed that it was very quiet. Ardeth looked up and around. 

"Hadi?"

Gone was the nudging his master to wakefulness, the munching sound of food being stolen from his bag, and the impatient kicking of a hoof against the sand.

The horse was nowhere to be found. There were no tracks, no indication whatsoever that there had ever been a horse in the vicinity. Ardeth whipped around in a circle, as if it would somehow bring his horse into view. "Hadi!" There was no reply.

And then Ardeth tripped on something he had missed near his feet. Cursing, he threw himself into a sitting position and snatched the black cloth from beneath his feet. It was very familiar. Racing up, he let the cloth unfold. It was trimmed in silver, long and filthy. It was his robe. Ardeth stared, dumbstruck. The back had a hole in the shape of a running horse chasing the sun burned into it.

Suddenly it all made sense. Not far from these parts there was a horse breeder who used this symbol, one who was very rich and smug about the purity of his horses. Of course, those women must have been his wives. They had certainly not seemed to be strangers to horses, revering Hadi over his master. And now they had spirited Hadi away from him.

Grumbling, Ardeth threw his robe on, gathered his belongings and stomped towards his destination. This was not going to stand in his way. He had faced desert raiders, undead mummies and pygmy headhunters. A little lack of transportation was not going to keep him from his quarry. His resolve was as granite. He would do that which he had set out to do, come underworld or high water.

Phantom hoof beats taunted him as he walked along the cliff side.

Ra was no less unkind this day, Ardeth noted sometime later. He had stopped glancing back in the hope of seeing Hadi an hour ago, and was now left to ponder the terrible heat and how living here in the desert might not be all it was cracked up to be. His back stung from the sun beating down on him endlessly. And what he wouldn't give for another oasis! He glared reproachfully at the sun overhead, blaming it for all of his misfortunes.

No matter how merciless, Ra was not without a sense of humor, it seemed. In response to Ardeth's grumpy meaderings, the sun prepared to disappear from the sky. But not to ease his burden, no. Ardeth had sensed it coming for some time, but had not wanted to allow himself to believe it. Yet it was undeniable now. What had begun as a slow rumble in the distance was now growing. The wind picked up, spreading showers of sand along his feet, a telltale warning. Bay quickened his pace nervously.

In the breadth of a moment he found himself sprinting as fast as he had ever sprinted before. He did not even turn to view the magnificent sand storm brewing at his heels. He had barely enough time to duck inside a niche in the rock face, before it barreled past roughly, sending stinging sand particles into his face. He pawed his eyes to clear the skin, but did not dare open them. With more than a little haste he wrapped the cloth hanging from his turban around his face to protect him from further assault.

The wind howled around him like a ghost, and he could feel his feet and legs becoming entrenched in piling sand that crept into the niche with him. It was blowing everywhere, entering crevices on him he did not care to name even in private company. A gust of sand blasted through his turban and into his nose, causing him to sneeze and cough. He had but one thought in that moment. He was going to die.

But perish he did not, or the telling of this story would have been for naught. No, he did not die in the niche, left for none but the desert mice to find. When it was done, Ardeth dropped out of the rock and coughing, dragged himself out of three feet of sand. For the longest time he lay there upon the ground, too weary to move. This was madness. Sheer madness. Who could finish a task with such an ill omen looming over it?

Bay coughed the sand from his throat and lungs, then forced himself up. No. He would not give up. He refused to be stopped by a storm. Ardeth glared at the sun, shouting defiance to lift his spirits. "You will not stop me! Osiris himself would have to upend the underworld to stop me!"

A sand pocket saw him promptly back on his behind. Cursing every step of the way, Ardeth crawled up and stalked onward, more determined than ever.

And so our warrior continued upon his goal, unthwarted and eager as ever. He was a seasoned fighter, he knew trouble and knew that to dwell on misfortune was to invite further ruin, so he turned his thoughts towards the glory that awaited him. They would tell his tale around campfires for years to come if he succeeded. They would speak of how he mounted his faithful horse and rode off into the desert towards...three women that had pampered and stolen said animal away from him. Ardeth stopped. He could not tell them that, obviously, but what would he say? And how would he explain the brand on his back?

Resolved to decide that later, Ardeth pressed on, walking, walking forever and without any sense of time save for the traveling of the sun upon the horizon. But he did not give in to the temptation of returning home empty handed. And for this, it seemed, Allah had smiled upon him at last.

Not having looked up in some time, Bay had missed the oncoming village before him until he nearly tripped and sprawled face-first into a well. Nearly, but not quite. Ardeth's lightening reflexes saved him just as his feet lifted off the sand. His hands held fast to one side of the well and his legs clutched to the opposite, and for a long moment Ardeth pondered how best to get out of this situation. The darkness below seemed a bit more alarming when viewed from this angle, he decided.

There came a chuckle from behind. Ardeth let his head hang limp as he listened to footsteps closing in on him. The voice that followed the laugh was high and ancient. "Now, boy, if you were thirsty, you could have used the bucket. That water isn't going anywhere anytime soon."

"Indeed," Ardeth managed to say through his strain. "However, as it is I seem to be stuck. Do you suppose...?"

"Don't say another word, my boy. Maha!" the old man barked. "Come! This one needs your help!"

"Coming, my father," called a feminine voice in return. Ardeth had never heard such a voice as this. It was soft and alluring, more so than any voice he had ever heard, just as an angel from the heavens. Feeling his skin flush at the sound of her delicate footsteps, Ardeth tried to shift to make himself appear a little less foolish, but her chuckle made his attempts useless. "You poor dear," she breathed.

"Um," he murmured, conscious that she was now leaning over him. He could feel her warmth against his back. If she meant to help him out, all she was doing at this point was threatening to aid his limbs to weaken so he could fall. And then one of her hands started sliding up his robe to the rim of his pants where she clutched his belt. Her perfume was like night blooming jasmine on the winds, sailing hence to find rest against his nose. 

Without warning, she yanked him up in one move.

Ardeth stumbled back from the well, then looked up quickly, wondering what sort of woman had such strength. She was small, with a slender waist and delicate hands, and covered from head to toe in desert clothes. Not even her eyes were visible, hidden away behind a sheer black veil. "Thank you," he stammered, trying to make out as many details as he could.

The old man cackled as if he were in on a secret Ardeth was not privy to. "My daughter, Maha. And I am Hassan. Welcome to our village."

Bay tore his eyes off Maha and looked to Hassan. Such was this old man's appearance that Ardeth started, then hastily attempted to cover it with a feigned trip on a rock. Hassan was unique, to say the least. Ardeth had never seen such eyes, large and round. It reminded him of the fish in the marketplace in Cairo. "Yes...thank you," he managed, then turned away for fear he would betray his shock. Even still he thought he could feel those bugging eyes upon him, weighing everything they took in. Ardeth shuddered. "I hate to impose upon your hospitality even further, but I have been walking all day, and..."

Hassan snapped his fingers, motioning Maha towards the inner part of the small town. "Go and prepare him a place to sleep. Tell your mother to make extra food. We have a weary guest to provide for!"

Now at this point one might be compelled to weigh Ardeth's luck of late versus the eagerness with which Hassan welcomed this total stranger into his home. Ardeth was tired and hungry and weary of the sand. He examined nothing save the prospect of eating a warm meal and resting well. Surely this small temptation would not be enough to hold him from his task. So he joined Hassan, unabashedly watching Maha run ahead of them. If Hassan noticed this, he gave no indication. He was quite busily telling the Medjai warrior all about his wife's cooking.

The home of Hassan and his wife Aludra and their daughter Maha was large by no means. It was what one would term 'cozy'. Ardeth was seated in a rickety old chair at the back of a dusty table when dinner began. Hassan trapped him on his left, and Maha trapped him on the right. He did not heed this omen, however. As Aludra set out the plates and Maha brought bowls of food over, a savory scent filled the Medjai's nose.

"Are you hungry, Ardeth?" Maha asked him in those sultry tones that made him wonder if there wasn't another question hiding behind those words.

"Famished," he admitted heartily. Taking his chosen weapons of the battle into hand (a spoon and fork), Ardeth dipped into the food Aludra served. They watched him, all three, as he brought the spoon up to his nose and inhaled. "It smells wonderful." And he truly meant it. Without hesitation, he partook of the meal and paused to savor it.

"Good, isn't it?" Hassan's eyes were knowing, his tone coaxing praise out of the warrior.

Good did not describe it. Ardeth chewed a few more times and attempted to swallow. He had a rough time of it, to be sure. He had never tasted anything of the sort, however since his benefactors were eyeballing him steadily, he had no choice but to proceed as if everything was perfectly normal. He could only hope dinner was a short event.

Short it was, but at the end he was not sure whether that would be enough to aid him in his new condition. Hassan led him from the home, out back to a little barn, and as they walked Ardeth's insides churned. He did not even think to ask why they were heading out this way until Hassan lit a torch on the wall and pointed to a makeshift bed in the hay. The Medjai grasped his stomach and groaned. He was in no position to complain.

Hassan bid him goodnight and Ardeth fell upon his bed, heedless to all but the scent of the horse one stall over. The desert storm had been a minor convenience. _This _was madness. He was quite sure that were he to die tonight, he would not mind. He fell into a troubled repose from which he did not wish to awaken.

As it was, our hero did not sleep through until morning as he did the previous day. Midnight came, bringing with it a visitor. A hand touching his strong shoulder awakened him. Ardeth opened his eyes and in the still flickering torch light, he beheld who it was kneeling over him. For a moment he considered it was Hassan. They large eyes staring into his were unmistakable. The rest, however, was not Hassan. She was lithe and sweet smelling amidst the barn scent. Climbing onto his midsection, she leaned next to his ear and breathed in very familiar, sultry tones, "Hello, fair warrior."

Ardeth gasped and tried to sit up. Those wide eyes gazed back into his, and he found himself gawking like a fool. Her lips were full and soft, her skin as gentle as milk. Those eyes were hideous. "Maha, you shouldn't be out here," he tried to reason, pushing her pawing hand off his shoulder.

"And why shouldn't I be?" she breathed softly. Her fingers found his belt buckle. "Father says we're to be married."

"Married?" the Medjai squeaked. "He said that, did he?" She nodded an affirmative, reaching to open his robe. He took her hand and tried hard not to wince at her appearance. "I am on a quest."

Maha grinned, kissing the tip if his nose playfully. "So am I." This was not going as he hoped. Not that Ardeth minded the attention of a woman on after a hard day's work, but he just wasn't sure he could make it through what she was suggesting, knowing those big eyes were watching him.

"Tomorrow I will be leaving." He giggled when she touched his side. "Walking straight out of here, possibly into death."

"Why walk?" She lifted a set of keys, dangling them over him. They spun around her finger and hit his chest. "Take the brown car. It's yours now...husband." The word rolled off her tongue like honey. To him it sounded like the clinking sound of a lock being set.

Ardeth crawled backwards out of her grasp and hit the wall at his back. "Your father would not approve of this!"

Maha was not to be deterred by that sort of threat. She laughed richly. "What he doesn't know will not bother him."

"What if it bothers me?"

Maha glared at him--a very strange effect, given the size of her eyes. "What do you mean?" she asked, her tone suddenly dangerous.

Laughing nervously, the Medjai pulled himself to his feet. She followed, looking like a cat that had cornered a mouse. "I only mean that I would not dare rob you of your honor." He made a quick prayer to Allah that she would believe him.

For a second he thought she had bought it, but then those gaping eyes turned deadly. "You don't want me!" she hissed, shoving him back against the wall with a surprising strength. "FATHER!"

The door to the barn banged open. Ardeth was aghast. Hassan stomped into the barn with a pitchfork, heading straight for the so-called happy couple. "What is going on here!"

"Nothing!" Bay insisted in a somewhat panicked voice. He backed away from Maha. "I did nothing to impugn her honor, I swear it!"

Hassan was livid. "Nothing, did you! I'll teach you to toy with my daughter's feelings!" With a yell of rage, he jabbed the pitchfork straight at Ardeth's throat.

Fortunately, his luck had not robbed our hero of his reflexes. He ducked before the spikes made contact with his flesh. Ardeth had to think quickly, for he would have to be swift if he was to make good his escape. And then he remembered. The key! As Hassan made another swing, Bay bent down, swiped the key off the hay, and darted towards the door. Maha was hot on his trail, though, shouting obscenities even the most hardened warrior of his tribe would not shout. As he opened the barn door, she shoved him into it, effectively closing it _and _causing him to bash his face into the wood.

"I tried to make this easy on you, boy," Hassan was snarling, shaking his pitch fork. He knocked Ardeth over the head and for a long moment, the Medjai saw stars. "I guess we'll have to do things the hard way!"

"Careful, father," Maha warned as Hassan jabbed Ardeth's back roughly. "I do not want him damaged."

The old man spat upon the ground, then with one sweeping motion, banged Ardeth in the side with the long handle of his weapon. The warrior fell to his knees, his fingers sinking into the sand. And then it occurred to him, as an epiphany from some magical source. Cupping as much sand as he could into his fists, Ardeth staggered to his feet and hurled himself and the sand towards the torch on the wall. Instantly everything went black. Maha screamed (or maybe it was Hassan, Ardeth no longer expected any semblance of normalcy from this little family), and amidst the bumping, clawing and cursing, the Medjai managed to squeeze himself out of a small dog door in the side of the barn.

He bolted, but it was too late. The town had heard the ruckus and was now gathering to see what was afoot. Hearing Maha and Hassan's shouts as they ripped the barn door, most of the villagers took the wrong idea and made it their mission. "Kill the stranger!" one man shouted, and they all began towards Ardeth with blazing eyes and any sort of weapon they could find.

Ardeth had one chance, and that was to get to the car. It was parked on the other side of the house, and there was a straight shot to it. Nothing seemed more right, more divinely planned. The Medjai sprinted for all he was worth, clutching the key like it was treasure.

Someone behind him threw a pan. He knew this because it fell in front of him, but he was moving too quickly to stop now. His foot hit the inside of it and he slid forward and hit the car with his stomach. The car had no roof, so he was thrust quick conveniently into the front seat, and wasted no time crawling behind the wheel. Jamming the key into the ignition, Ardeth floored the gas pedal and away he went.

For some time as he raced through the desert he could hear them running after him, too. But Ardeth kept driving, heedless to anything but his goal. He wasn't going to stop this time. He had fooled around long enough. It was do or die.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning they gave up the chase, mercifully. By sunrise he could see his goal. There it stood, the shattered remains of an ancient temple, looking radiant in the pale light. Ardeth grinned and hit the gas harder. This proved to be a mistake, unfortunately (though not unexpectedly, of course). Now just as any thing, machine or beast, on this planet, cars require fuel to propel themselves forth. Hassan's car had not been full at the time of borrowing. 

Just there at the top of the last dune, on the last mile of his last destination, the car stopped. Though, perhaps 'stopped' is not quite the word. Let us then say that the car's engine stuttered and failed, but the actual motion of the vehicle did not cease. Now, since he was being taken towards his goal, Ardeth though that the car sliding down the dune was quite convenient. He did not complain, did not scream or fuss. No, in fact he laughed at fortune's tricks. Until the car coasted right past the ruins in which his quarry lay. Ardeth turned his head and watched as it passed.

There was another oasis nearby, and it was here the car made rest, plunging into a pool somewhat deeper than the last one. It sank quickly, but Ardeth was a fair swimmer despite having grown up in the desert. This was the last straw. He had had it. If it killed him, if hell's demons spilled forth from the ground at his feet, Ardeth Bay was going to reach his goal.

He stomped out of the pool, through the sand and towards the ruins. His robe dripped muddy water onto the ground, his hair was plastered against his face, and he had lost a boot in the water, but he held his head high. This was his finest hour, the hour of his glory. And there at the ruins he beheld his destiny.

The frail hands of a wise woman handed him his goal. Ardeth gripped it with pride, holding it aloft so he could savor this moment. It was small and cold in his fingers, emanating a power he had never felt in all his days. The old woman cackled mysteriously and the world was right once again.

Now this is where Ardeth's great adventure ends, but not without a question to you, the audience. And when it comes to you to decide your fate, reflect upon the woes of Ardeth Bay and where his lust led him. And ask yourself this.

What would _you _do for a Klondike Bar?

* * *

Hehehe. When I thought of it, I had to write it. ;)

**Author**: Angel Ruse  
**Distribution**: Anywhere and everywhere  
**Email**: angelruseATgmailDOTcom


End file.
